


Extraordinary

by Spindlewindle



Category: GOT7
Genre: Friendship, Slow Romance, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindlewindle/pseuds/Spindlewindle
Summary: Jackson begins to see himself through extraordinary eyes.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

Something about a 7-day, all-expense-paid “Beginner’s” ski trip sounded blissful to Jackson this year. So much so that when he saw the $4,560 price tag at checkout, his mouse floated toward the “submit” button as if plunging down the side of a mountain in sub-30 temperatures was something he’d wanted for a long time.

If you were to ask him now, he would still struggle to explain what it was about the trip itself that appealed to him, but he is, admittedly, more introspective about the splurge.

At the time, Jackson was feeling a bit lost. He wouldn’t say he _was_ lost, but he’d felt that way, for a while. For years he’d grappled with feeling too exceptional for most people and simultaneously not good enough. He was handsome -- and judging by the stares he sometimes got in public, he’d go as far to say extremely so-- he was athletic, he was a pretty successful dancer, and he was _fun_. Whether he was starting a new job, going to dinner with friends, or just trying something new, he was the life and energy of the party everytime.

All of these things made Jackson popular--wherever he went--and people revered him for it. It was to the point that he assumed that most of the people he met wanted to hang out with him again, and he was shocked the few times people didn’t beg to.

In that sense it was obvious why he felt exceptional, especially when surrounded by large groups of young, hip, good-looking people hanging on his every word, but the reasons he didn’t feel good enough were complicated and often shifted. One year he felt his head was too big, another year he felt too loud. But, this year he kept getting dumped.

What really bothered Jackson wasn’t that the women he dated were leaving him, but that he cared that they left. If he was honest, Jackson always settled. All of the women he dated were spectacular and, in many ways, very much like him: kind hearted and larger than life. But these women also had some things he lacked. They were graceful, book smart, even-tempered and they had an intuition that Jackson envied. Despite that, Jackson had never been in love. He’d loved plenty of women but never fell for any of them. But being the responsible guy he is, after dating someone for a few months with no problems, he would make things official anyway. _Maybe this woman is the teammate I need._ He would think to himself.

But, like clockwork, after six months or so the women would leave. “I was giving more than I was getting,” they’d say. Or, another common one, “I think I can do better.” These responses always confused Jackson because he felt that he, objectively, went above and beyond in relationships. He was kind, thoughtful and always offered a helping hand. He was generous in bed and open about his feelings-- what more could a woman want? As far as doing better, in some ways his exes probably could, and he always hoped they’d go on to do so. But entertaining that thought challenged Jackson’s belief that he was truly exceptional, and that wasn’t something he was willing to consider.


	2. An ordinary meeting

It was January 21st when Jackson first heard the Korean man’s voice. His voice made Jackson feel like he was locked in a room while the man spoke from the other side. Or like Jackson was under water and the man was standing over him on land. Or maybe Jackson was just imagining things.

He was on a bus to his ski trip when they met. Jackson regretted choosing the window seat that day. The bus was old and the windows weren’t sealed quite right, allowing the chill of the outdoors to seep inside and assault the parts of his body that weren’t covered. He knew his nose was turning red and his lips were chapped. _My nose is already big_ , he thought. _No need to draw more attention._ Jackson considered leveraging his seniority to convince BamBam to switch seats with him, but he was busy talking to a woman who spoke in English, but sounded like she was from Seoul. As he shut his eyes, Jackson could hear excerpts of their conversation.

“Yeah we’re coming from Korea,” BamBam said, his accent allowing the “are” part of the contraction to become an afterthought. “Yeah nah we didn’t go far. We just uh” BamBam cut his eyes back at Jackson, but not quite far enough to actually look at him. “...needed to get away, you know?”

Usually Jackson would be the first one to greet BamBam’s new friend, but he was fucking cold. And besides, when he was with BamBam, he didn’t feel pressured to play the part of the energetic, hot, funny guy--he could just be in a mood. That’s one of the things he liked about their friendship.

The woman peeked over BamBam’s shoulder to look at Jackson and then sat back in her seat. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her say: “My parents are from Seoul,” in a soft voice. “But we’re visiting from L.A. We also have a group from Southern California and a few folks from Oahu as well, all of Korean heritage.”

Jackson found out the woman was part of some kind of cultural excursion group. They were expats that would gather online and plan trips somewhere to Korea each year. This year they were staying in Gangwon Province. “But we have one here who actually lives here,” the woman said. Jackson debated sitting up to see if he knew this person, but decided to settle into feeling less than social. _That’s ok_. He thought to himself. _You don’t have to be on all the time._

But the sound of the man’s voice tempted him to slip into his crowd-pleasing ways. His voice was very unique. He spoke softly, but with projection; slowly but with conviction. His voice was deep but calm; hollow yet strong. He didn’t sound like anyone Jackson knew—no, he would’ve remembered someone who talked like that. But somehow he sounded like someone Jackson wanted to know-someone he wanted to impress.

Jackson pulled his down his jacket, which had settled up around his ears, and pushed himself onto his knees to see the man with the voice that taunted him. He was telling BamBam his story:

Grew up in Changwon, two sisters. He was a writer. He wanted to be a teacher, but wasn’t sure children would like him. He was very well educated and very very smart. Once Jackson found the head that seemed to be moving the most, he learned the man also had a very nice head of hair. Thick, dark, healthy hair that was so smooth he could run his fingers through it and it would fall perfectly into place. Jackson was jealous. He had to style his hair everyday, and even so it would never look like that. Jackson put his beanie back on.

“So, Jinyoung,” BamBam said in English. Jinyoung was his name. How common. “Maybe we should, like....man.” Jackson could tell BamBam was struggling to communicate. Oddly enough, Jackson knew all too well that being multi-lingual often made it hard to connect with others. 

“You can speak in Korean,” Jinyoung said. His voice deep enough to carry to the front of the bus. “If it’s easier.” That was kind of rude, Jackson thought. But no one reacted that way. Bam Bam only chuckled, and the woman looked at him with admiration.

Jackson looked down further and his eyes scanned down from Jinyoung’s hair, to his smooth forehead, a prominent, masculine pair of eyebrows, and finally to his eyes. His eyes were dark and deep, making Jackson feel like he might never come back up for air if he stared for long, but they were made soft by a pair of laugh lines that seemed to appear whenever the man was amused. It was almost like an adaptation that let people know he was friendly after all.

“How about this,” BamBam responded. “You speak Korean, I speak whatever language I want-- you just have to keep up.” The trio laughed and then Jackson heard Jinyoung suggest they grab a drink.

“Oh!” BamBam almost shouted. “My friend Jackson...He’d want to drink too.” BamBam pulled on Jackson’s arm until he was in view. Jinyoung looked genuinely surprised to learn someone else had been sitting there. “Oh. Hi Jackson,” Jinyoung strained his neck and moved his head from side to side, as if it would help him see Jackson’s face, but it was half hidden under his beanie.

Jackson nodded and dropped further into his seat, avoiding Jinyoung’s dancing, deep brown eyes with a close lipped smile.


	3. One half of a memorable evening

Jackson always lets BamBam choose the restaurant for dinner, because BamBam is trendy. Everything Bam does is in-fashion--of the moment-- and it made everyone around him feel posh and seen. Jackson loved that.

BamBam and Jackson were two of the most handsome guys at the restaurant, and BamBam was by far the best dressed. A couple of younger girls had even stopped him before entering to ask if he was famous. Jackson was sure to make a scene, pretending to be BamBam’s manager as the girls walked away. “BamBam’s fans, friends, and lovers, thank you for the support, but his schedule does not allow for any more photos.”

Upon arriving at the restaurant, BamBam watched Jackson shrug out of his bulky, frumpy ski jacket to reveal a surprisingly chic, grey satin shirt. Jackson knew he looked silly wearing his ski jacket to such a fancy place, but his other jacket was too light, and lately, he preferred to choose comfort over fashion.

“You know,” BamBam said after a few chuckles, “if you needed to borrow a jacket, you could just ask right?”

“And _you_ know we have completely different proportions right?” Jackson said, furrowing his brow and twisting up his face dramatically. “Your legs are like a mile long.” BamBam smiled at the familiar, exasperated expression on Jackson’s face, which, despite how it’s described, usually indicates Jackson’s in a pretty good mood.

“Next time, I’ll put you in some heels man, no one will notice.”

“Yeah you led me off that cliff in college and you’re never doing it again.” BamBam laughed, thinking back to the night that Jackson wore platforms to his first college party. It did make Jackson’s legs appear longer, but to the confusion of his colleagues who would ask: “Why did I think you were much...taller?” when they saw him around campus in his slides the next day.

“Ok, Ok,” BamBam conceded. “Yeah that was a bad idea, but you were memorable that night, man. I dyed my hair bright red that year and no one noticed. You wore platforms one time and ... _everyone_ noticed.” Jackson tilted his head in response. BamBam had a point.

The servers guided BamBam and Jackson to their table. As they sat down, Jackson glanced up and down at BamBam’s all-red getup. “Speaking of memorable, you’re fucking hard to miss now,” Jackson said, gesturing toward BamBam’s outfit with his cocktail menu.

“Enough for Sunmi to notice me?”

“Who-oh. The lady from the bus?” Jackson leaned forward and rested a hand on BamBam’s forearm, raising his eyebrows ironically. “Bam, she’d have to _try_ to miss you.”

As they ordered their second drink, they knew it was only a matter of time before Sunmi, Jinyoung, and the rest of the crew arrived. BamBam, who was sitting back in his seat with his legs crossed, elbow resting on his chair luxuriously, suddenly shifted forward. “I’m going to fix myself up,” he said, gesturing toward his face. His eyeliner looked more than fine.

“I’ll wait for you.” Jackson watched BamBam leave and smiled. BamBam was probably sneaking off to pay for their next round. He always did this.

Jackson sat in his chair and looked around at the crowds, the high ceilings, the attractive servers walking swiftly in tight, color blocked polo shirts. The entire place made Jackson feel and look more effortless than he intended, even despite the fact that he’d spent an entire hour on his skin earlier that day. To be clear he looked handsome, “gorgeous” according to the cab driver that couldn’t keep his eyes off him. “I have a daughter,” the cab driver said, but Jackson had a feeling it wasn’t his daughter's number he had slipped into Jackson’s coat pocket.

But no one looked more effortless in that restaurant than Jinyoung.

He walked in while BamBam was still in the bathroom, (or paying the check, whichever was the truth), and it felt like the entire tone of the room had shifted, or maybe Jackson was imagining things.

When Jackson saw Jinyoung he realized he must’ve spent a decent amount of time trying to imagine the rest of his face, because he didn’t quite look the way he expected. If it wasn’t for the hair and the eyebrows, he might not have recognized him at all. Jinyoung’s beauty was more understated than he’d imagined, but in a way that was poetic and comforting. His jawline-- and his stare-- were sharp, but the rest of his features were actually quite soft and pretty. His nose was more cute than handsome from some angles and his cheeks held just enough weight for a dimple to poke through now and then. His lips were his standout feature. Jackson had already decided.

Jackson watched as Jinyoung and Sunmi stopped short furrowing their brows. At one point Jinyoung looked right at Jackson and then quickly averted his eyes to look above him. Then he looked beside him, then through him. If Jinyoung could have lifted Jackson and looked under him he probably would’ve.

Jackson laughed to himself and realized he must be unrecognizable. Most people wouldn't believe he was the guy hiding behind a beanie earlier, shivering from the cold. Jackson cleared his throat and called out, in English.

“Jinyoung, Sunmi,” before standing up to greet the two. Sunmi looked past him again. _Jeez_ , he thought, _did I look that rough earlier?_ Jackson started to approach them. At one point Jinyoung cocked an eyebrow and titled his head as if he recognized him, but truthfully, neither of them realized that Jackson was the one talking to them until he was right in front of them, at which point Jinyoung’s eyebrows had receded practically into his hairline. “It’s _me_ , Jackson,” he said.

Jinyoung’s eyes raised a final centimeter. He closed his eyes which, with his eyebrows raised, looked kind of comical. Sunmi, on the other hand, broke into a wide smile.

“Well look at you, Mr. Handsome.” she said in a very...L.A. sort of way. She definitely meant it, but she was also the type of person to hand out those compliments left and right. The way Jinyoung sighed made it clear Jackson’s assumption was true.

“Jackson,” Jinyoung said with an exhale, “I am _so_ sorry.” Jackson chuckled and rested a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“For what? I don’t expect you to remember me after one meeting.” That was the first time Jackson said that and meant it. He laughed to himself. “Well uh, let me get you two a seat and a drink?” Jinyoung took Sunmi’s coat and stepped forward.

“I’ll help you grab the drinks, but where do I hang these?” That’s adorable, Jackson thought. Jinyoung, more than anyone, looked like he belonged in a place like this with his actor looks, black turtleneck, and deceptively flashy watch. He caught more glances than Jackson and BamBam when he first walked in, but he also seemed the most out of place. How could someone be the center of attention and not even know it?

Shortly after, a short, young, red cheeked woman ran up behind Jinyoung and practically snatched the coats out of his hand. He turned suddenly, startled.

“I am so sorry!” she said. Her hands were shaking. She looked nervous. “I forgot to take these for you.” Jinyoung nodded and gave her a warm, understanding look before retreating. The woman’s glare lingered before she let out a defeated sigh and walked away.


	4. A dream home

Jackson learned a lot about Jinyoung as they waited for their lemon drops at the bar. Jinyoung was a writer, which Jackson knew, but he had also been a journalist. Jackson’s eyes widened at the word and he laughed to himself, extending pity to anyone that Jinyoung interviewed. _How could they keep secrets from someone so intimidating,_ he wondered. But Jackson also learned that Jinyoung was a poet.

“What kind of poetry do you write?” Jackson asked, kicking his feet back and forth as they dangled from the bar stool. He stopped himself, remembering how his mother used to press one hand against his thigh when he fidgeted too much. “ _Enough_ ,” she would say.

But Jinyoung was too deep in thought to notice. At one point, a dimple emerged on his right cheek when he pressed his lips together. Jackson took note that he only had one. “It’s...hard to explain,” Jinyoung said. But Jackson pressed on.

“Ok well, if I were to google your name...last name please?”

“Park.” Another common name.

“If I were to google ‘Park Jinyoung, poetry’ what would come up?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jackson’s voice squeaked this time, making it hard for Jinyoung to force back a smile.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung repeated. Jackson raised an eyebrow and shifted on the bar stool, letting his left leg hang down and allowing his right to fall asleep instead.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No” Jinyoung said, as a bartender dropped off half of their drink order. Jinyoung pulled the two glasses to his chest, as if for safe keeping. “I use an alias.”

“An alias?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re like.. _published_. You make money off of this stuff right? How does anyone know it’s you.”

“Well the magazines know who I am-”

“Well yeah I know that,” Jackson interrupted dramatically, as if to say ‘I’m not stupid.’ Jinyoung couldn’t help but admire how Jackson went from being so debonair to completely unrestrained in mere seconds. It was endearing. “But, you’re saying you’re a published author and no one knows who you are?”

“The people close to me know my poetry and in most cases it’s not because I tell them they just...have me figured out I guess.” Jackson released his right leg from underneath himself and plopped back into the seat in an almost childlike manner. He nodded his head and grabbed one lemon drop from the bar.

“Because they know what you’d write about,” Jackson guessed, “what’s important to you?”

Jinyoung raised his glass in a cheers and nodded, “And how I’d write it.”

“Would you say you write how you speak?”

Jinyoung smirked and broke eye contact with Jackson only to bring the glass to his lips, his platinum pinky ring catching the bar lights as he set the glass back down. “Not at all.”

“Like pulling teeth,” Jackson said under his breath. Jinyoung didn’t owe him anything-- this he knew-- but Jackson also knew that he was charming. In fact, he was usually charming enough to get most people to divulge almost immediately. But Jinyoung was nothing like most people. At least, he was nothing like anyone Jackson had ever met. “Ok, challenge accepted,” Jackson said, sticking his hand out as if to congratulate Jinyoung for a game well played. “I’m gonna find out who you are, Park Jinyoung.”

“Well I hope you like me,” Jinyoung said, his hand finding Jackson’s in the dark. “When you find me, that is.”

***

Jinyoung and Sunmi’s cabin was more suited for a nightcap than BamBam and Jackson’s hotel.

From the outside the house was quaint and plain with pairs of broken shutters lined up against old, mossy wood. The modest, arch top windows were too small to reflect light, and the old wreath on the front door had clearly been neglected for a season or two.

But the inside was like something out of a dream. The back of the one-floor house, which sat on the mountain’s edge, was covered with windows from floor to ceiling. The marble countertops and mahogany floor sparkled effortlessly under the moon, which had settled in the upper right corner of the glass wall.

Jackson reflexively took his shoes off at the door and stripped off his too-puffy jacket as he entered, eyes wide and in awe.

“This,” he began “was not what I expected.” Jinyoung, trailing not too far behind him, hung Jackson’s coat on a metal coat hook that matched the worn outside of the house much more than the modern interior. He cleared his throat.

“The, uh, owner said that they started renovations and ran into a few problems” Jinyoung raised his finger to mark the spots “here and here. Once those problems were resolved they realized they liked the front of the house the way it was. One of the bedrooms was left alone too.”

“I wanna see,” Jackson said, reminding Jinyoung of a kid at a museum who was told “don’t touch.”

“Later,” Jinyoung said. “For now let’s get you some beer? Water? Tea?”

“Tea,” Jackson sighed” it’s definitely time for tea.” BamBam and Sunmi made their way to the hot tub on the back porch as Jackson leaned against the counter. Jackson figured it was best not to interrupt. Besides, he wasn’t one for the cold.

Jinyoung set a tea kettle on the stove and turned his back toward the stove top in a way that Jackson thought was kind of dangerous. As if reading Jackson’s thoughts, he slid over so his backside could rest against the countertop. Jackson gave Jinyoung a quick once-over. He had a great figure and he looked comfortable in this house, almost as if it were made for him.

“This house looks, like, made for you,” Jackson said. Jinyoung smiled and rested his hand against the marble countertop with a light touch.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson said as he looked up at the high ceilings “it just reminds me of you. I can feel your aura here.” Jinyoung gave Jackson a closed mouth smile and sunk back into his heels.

“If you were a house, Jackson, what type would you be?”

“Uh phew wow. Um...I’m more like an apartment than a house.” Jackson said under his breath, but judging by Jinyoung’s laughter, it was loud enough to hear. “Yeah honestly that might be right. An apartment in a bustling city. Not like a penthouse or anything, but maybe on the second-highest floor. Aesthetically it’s chic and fun, but there’s no washer and dryer-”

“No bathtub,” Jinyoung interjected with a chuckle. It was clear that they were both speaking from experience. Jackson found that comforting.

“Exactly.” Jackson continued, “In other words, it’s something you pay a lot for because being able to say you live on _that_ street in _that_ city makes you feel good about yourself, but after a while, you do start to miss that washer and dryer--”

“No,” Jinyoung said, holding a gaze that made Jackson shift on his heels. “That’s not right.”

“I...what?” It wasn’t the response Jackson was expecting. He thought Jinyoung would think his answer was witty or insightful, anything but wrong.

“You are...” Jinyoung pulsed his hand in the air as if trying to locate words in the dark. “A greek villa.” Jackson raised his eyebrows and rested against the opposite countertop this time.

“I have no idea what one of those looks like but it sounds...much nicer than the 650 square foot apartment I was imagining-”

“I’ve always wanted one,” Jinyoung said. “A villa, that is.” For the second time that night, Jinyoung looked at Jackson as if he recognized him, as if he were sharing memories with an old friend. But the moment passed just as quickly as it came. The light left Jinyoung’s eyes with a blink and just like that, Jackson was a stranger again. Jackson shifted his weight and crossed his arms, straightening his posture the way he did when he was the last pick for dodgeball in 1st grade or when his mother told him he was wearing too much cologne. It was a familiar feeling.

Jackson fell silent and looked over the stove top to avoid Jinyoung’s stare. He reminded himself to speak confidently but instead, his voice came out small: “The, uh, kettle isn’t on.”

“Oh!” Jinyoung hopped forward and looked at the knobs on the stove, almost as if he were inspecting them. “Silly me” he mumbled into one of the eyes.


End file.
